This one is a variation on Payne’s fic challenge, the main aspects of which were:

• Spencer is a fresh-out-of-college art teacher (or Spencer can just be a prissy student in the same class as Ashley)
• a character called Keith von Sprecken, a genius that says random (funny) things during important silences
• Open Mic night at the local coffee house

Rating: U. Safe for everywhere.

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Part 1

The swirls were delicate but deep. They could even be described as profound, one might say. The deep purples spun in with the deep reds were… well, they were deep. A loud snort emanated from just to the right of Ashley Davies as she pulled her brush back from the canvas to study the piece.

“And yet another joyful piece from Edvard Munch over here!”

It wasn’t just what was said. It was also the beautifully superior and sneering tone of Spencer Carlin’s voice that really set Ashley’s teeth on edge.

“Sorry, did you want me to paint the Care Bears skipping through a field of daisies?” she shot back, followed by a clenching of her jaw she knew would give her a headache for the rest of the day.

“I’d rather you stopped painting at all since it only makes my skin crawl. But, since you have to, you could at least follow the teacher’s orders.”

Taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to throw all of her raw sienna at the blonde’s head, Ashley looked up in determination. “We were told to paint flowers,” she said in a slow and deliberate tone. “I have painted a flower.”

“Yeah, one that looks like Georgia O’Keefe went emo on the canvas.”

Unfortunately the extremely irritating blonde had a point there. Ashley’s flower did have a certain femaleness to it. And it may have been on the darker side of, well, dark. But it was deep; it was a flower with meaning.

“Fuck off, Van Gogh,” she retorted, realising that her words had left her mouth about a minute after they would have made a good reply.

She wished the teacher would come back into the room. At least then Spencer Carlin would have to keep her little opinions to herself. That would definitely make the whole day go a little easier. The brunette pinched her fingers over the bridge of her nose and prayed that another headache wouldn’t descend on her.

This hadn’t been her idea. In fact, when her mother had informed her that she would be spending three weeks of her precious vacation at Art Camp, she’d had a fit. For once, Ashley Davies’ tantrums had gotten her nowhere. It was probably because Christine Davies had wanted three whole weeks with her new toy boy and no daughter around. Ashley was fairly sure that Donovan Riccardo – or whatever his name actually was – would have been quite happy for Ashley to have stuck around. He’d certainly hit on her enough to give that impression. The young man with his waxed chest, bulging muscles and ridiculously tight shorts was very keen to play both ends of the Davies family.

Ew. There was a horrible thought.

In the end, it had been one of the few reasons that Ashley hadn’t just locked herself in her room. That and because her mother had the gardener take the door off with a screwdriver.

So here she was stuck at Art Camp.

She’d feared it would be full of pretentious wankers and sheer unadulterated geeks. Unfortunately, she’d been right. There were a few people who were keen on working their way into art school once they’d finished senior year and were using the opportunity to pad out their portfolios. A few of the kids had graduated from the ‘junior art camp’ and seemed to be camp lifers. They were the same sort of kids you’d expect to find in yellow life preservers, attached to a long rope, when attending normal summer camp, despite being fourteen years old or something.

Keith von Sprecken definitely fitted into the last category. If he wasn’t such a completely annoying bastard, Ashley might have felt sorry for him. He was the most über-nerd boy she’d ever met in her entire life. He actually looked like a white Urkel: his pants did seem to end somewhere up in his armpits; his glasses were thick, large and plastic; he had a constant sniffle; he wore checked shirts; and, you could see his socks.

He was ridiculous.

He was also ridiculously smart. Ashley had kind of cottoned on to that when it became apparent that he was the only kid in the class who wasn’t in high school. He was already in college at the ripe old age of sixteen. That ripe old age also made him the youngest person at the camp.

Ashley wished he’d go away.

Instead, she glared at him while he sat at the easel in front of her, snickering at the bickering between Spencer and herself. Ashley threw a bunched-up paper towel at him, closing her eyes when it bounced of harmlessly.

“Real mature,” Spencer muttered under her breath.

It was the door opening that sent the class back to quietly painting their various pieces. Ashley glanced up at the teacher briefly, eyeing Miss Paltnet, the most ridiculous teacher the young brunette had ever met. The art teacher was definitely the definition of ‘airy-fairy’. She spent a lot of time talking about flowing into the emotions and letting the art paint itself. She wore long, flowing dresses and, occasionally, flowers in her hair.

She was a riot.

What was even funnier was that, despite her wispy nature, the teacher was very-well-liked by Miss Prissy-Pants-Broomstick-up-the-Ass Spencer Carlin. In fact, the blonde seemed to simply shine in the hippy woman’s presence. And the smile on Spencer’s face made strange things happen to the inside of Ashley, strange, disgusting things that made the girl want to vomit.

Ugh. Spencer Carlin.

Ashley put another careful swirl of maroon into the side of a petal and sat back. It did look very deep. She dipped her brush into the cleaning solution and carefully removed as much of the maroon as she could and then rethought. Picking up her second brush, Ashley dipped it into the cream and very – but very – carefully highlighted the centre of the flower. Then she sat back again and admired.

Miss Paltnet appeared next to her, after swaying down the aisle in a very ethereal manner.

“Why, Ashley!” The brunette gulped. “It’s beautiful!” And then she grinned.

The teacher walked off and Ashley shot a look at Spencer who, in turn, looked appalled. Ashley stuck her tongue out at the blonde, and felt better.

The cabins weren’t too bad, actually. When she’d been told she was being shipped off to camp, Ashley had visions of twelve-to-a-room, three-high bunks and mattresses made out of dust. In fact, while the rooms were small, there were just two people in each. A small but comfortable bed sat against each wall and each had its own small chest of drawers at the end. Sure, it was rustic, everything made out of roughly carved wood, but it wasn’t all that uncomfortable.

Best of all, there were uneven numbers of girls so, in the end, Ashley had scored a cabin all to herself. Now, that had been the best bonus. Having space had been the most important part of the last few days.

It was hard to believe that it had only been three days. Three days of being stuck in this semi-hell hole. Oh, Ashley had actually quite enjoyed the art part of the days. The teachers were quite good, they allowed for a lot of creative variation, and the equipment was awesome. They’d done sculpture and pottery, and painting in various mediums. It had been fun.

But she was lonely. She missed Aiden and that in itself was pathetic. One shouldn’t miss one’s best friend when one’s best friend was a brainless jock. But he was her brainless jock and she missed him. She was lying on her bed, throwing a tennis ball at the ceiling and contemplating this, when the door to her cabin opened.

The sight of Spencer Carlin – all of her belongings in hand and looking like thunder – standing in the doorway was not quite what Ashley expected to see.

“Wrong room, idiot,” she said, going back to tossing the ball at the roof.

“Unfortunately for me, it’s not,” the blonde shot back. “I’ve been moved here.”

That got Ashley to sit up. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Spencer ignored her and dumped the armful of belongings she had onto the second bed.

“What the hell is going on?”

Spencer turned around. “A new girl arrived and Miss Paltnet felt that I’d be the only person who could cope with your anti-social personality disorder.”

“Miss Paltnet would never say that about me!”

“Close enough.” The blonde opened her suitcase and began putting her clothes in the drawers at the end of the bed. If the look on her face was anything to go by, Spencer was just about as amused with the situation as Ashley was.

This was not good. This was so not good.